Snowed-In
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Mandrea, AU. Oneshot. Andrea gets snowed in during a freak snow storm and her prince charming comes in a very unexpected form. Rated for profanity and sexual suggestion.


**AN: This is just a one-shot that I wrote for entertainment value. It was based off a prompt that I saw on a Tumblr list some time back. Please note that the scenario is pretty much entirely fictional given that it's getting snowed-in in Georgia. It's not meant to be factual, though, and is just for entertainment value.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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The weather channel had been threatening snow for almost a week. Every time that Andrea flipped it on to check the progress of the winter storm, it simply promised that the snow was coming and it was coming with a vengeance. Naturally, she paid no attention to it. She wasn't getting involved in the tradition of running around like she was certifiably insane just because the weather channel said there would be snow. She wasn't running down to the A and P and she wasn't packing her fridge with milk she wouldn't drink before it went bad and her cabinet with bread she'd never finish.

She lived in Georgia, and it _never_ snowed in Georgia.

Well, maybe it snowed in Georgia once in a while, but it _rarely_ snowed in Georgia.

Andrea wasn't getting caught up in the madness of it.

Andrea had been working evenings and weekends at Homer's for years. She'd picked up the job while she was in high school as a way to make money. It was a part time job, but enough hours picked up here and there and she was able to pay most of her way through school. She could cover anything, at least, that the scholarships hadn't covered.

Now she was fairly well set in her life and she didn't really need to work at Homer's. She was a legal secretary and she made enough money so that, if she was careful, she could squeak by on the four days a week that she worked downtown without ever having to pick up a second job.

But Andrea liked working at Homer's and she liked the people she met there. Interactions were different at the little store—stuck just outside the edge of town—than they were at the law office. So she kept the job. Homer, the man who had opened the store before Andrea had even been born, was retired. He stayed on in name only. His son, William—or Willie, as everyone knew him—ran the place now.

At least, Willie theoretically ran the place. It was really Andrea that knew all the ins and outs of what went on at Homer's. It was Andrea who placed the orders, considered new stock, and knew the likes and dislikes of the regular customers.

And it was Andrea that was working on an evening when most people were refusing to go into work, but everyone wanted to buy things.

The little store—which sold everything from toilet paper to live bait and hot dogs—usually closed at nine on weeknights. A few years back, Andrea had changed the store policy to stay open until midnight on Fridays and on the weekends. She'd discovered that, by keeping the store open by herself during those hours, they could turn a fair profit because they picked up business from all the locals that were coming in from the county line bar and wanted snacks to soak up the booze they'd drank, cigarettes to replace the ones they'd smoked, or more beer to carry home with them and finish whatever damage they hadn't managed to do to themselves while at the bar.

And they could turn an even larger profit by staying open late on the days surrounding what was being called the worst snow storm to hit Georgia in history.

Andrea had changed the letters on the electric sign herself to assure anyone passing by that they were open and that they offered everything necessary for surviving the almost-apocalyptic storm to come. Then she'd sat behind the register, read, and watched as, one by one, customers flooded in to buy almost everything they had in stock and leave her with an overflowing cash register to show for a few hours of extra work.

Business had been so good that Andrea was actually glad to see the few snow flurries when they started drifting down outside. The slight shower of snow only brought more people to make more last-minute purchases. When the flurries started to pick up to create a beautiful winter wonderland blowing by the window, business had gotten even heavier.

And Andrea, warm and comfortable behind the register with her small kerosene heater, was happy to see it.

There was a lull around eleven p.m. that drove Andrea to close the book she was reading—one of the cheap ones they got by the box full for a rack they kept near the register, something that was appreciated by many of the wives that were dragged out to the lake to fish on the weekends—and to get up to make herself a cup of coffee. She made the coffee just the way she liked and walked up and down the few aisles of the little store, straightening items on the shelves and returning things to their original locations. She marveled at how much was missing and made note of what seemed to have been ignored entirely. Surely, if people on the verge of certain death wouldn't touch it, they didn't need to restock those items.

A sudden change in the level of darkness around her drove Andrea to step near the windows. Glancing outside, she saw that the streetlight outside—the only light around for at least a mile—had burned out. Straining her ears, she could hear that Homer's generator had kicked on.

The power was out, but that wasn't much of a surprise. A decent rain could render them powerless for at least an hour. It was one of the reasons that Homer had shelled out some cash for the best generators that he could buy.

Still, Andrea made a mental note that she'd be sure to close up promptly at midnight. There was no need pushing it and, from the state of things inside the store, there wouldn't be much left to even sell by the time that hour rolled around.

Andrea returned to her coffee and returned to her stool. She opened her book back to the page she was on and lost herself, for a little longer, in the poorly written bodice-ripper. She hardly glanced up when she heard the bell on the door ring. The only reason the customer held her attention at all was because he let out a loud _howl_ , followed by something of a growl, and shut the door behind him like he couldn't even wait for it to close on its own.

 _Merle Dixon._

Andrea had known Merle Dixon her whole life. There wasn't much to know about him, really, though. He lived about six miles from the store in a small old house with his brother. He had worked on some construction jobs here or there around town. He had worked up at Tripp's shop as a mechanic for a while, mostly changing oil and rotating tires. He'd had a short stint with the power company, and once he'd been working with the air conditioner company that had replaced the air conditioner in Andrea's house.

But, mostly, Andrea knew Merle because he managed to stop by at least once almost every evening that she was working. And he was an insufferable flirt.

"You gonna fuckin' freeze to death in here, sugar tits," Merle declared. He laughed to himself when he realized that he had Andrea's attention.

"Warm in here," Andrea said.

"Long as that kerosene don't run out," Merle said. "How much fuel you got in them generators?"

"Enough, Merle," Andrea said.

That could very well be a lie. Andrea knew everything that went on _inside_ the store, but she really knew relatively little about things such as the generators. Willie handled all of that. She kept the business end of everything going and Willie kept the store running.

But Merle Dixon didn't need to know all that.

He laughed at her answer. He seemed to find nearly everything she said entertaining. Andrea tried to offer him the best expression she had to say that she thought relatively little about _him_ was entertaining.

"Enough for a couple damn days' worth?" Merle asked. "Because—I hate to tell ya, sugarlips, but your ass is as stuck here as mine is."

Andrea was struck by the comment.

"What?" She asked.

"Stuck," Merle said. "Snowed the fuck in. Ain't goin' nowhere. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow."

Andrea rolled her eyes.

"It's not that bad out there," Andrea said. "A dusting, maybe, and anyone can get through that."

Merle laughed.

"Guess you ain't fuckin' looked outside in a while, princess," Merle responded. "Hell—I barely survived to make it here. Damn truck spun out. Prob'ly buried by now in the ditch I left it in."

Andrea's stomach flipped. There was a sincerity to his words that she wasn't accustomed to. Not when Merle was talking. If he was telling the truth, she could very well be in trouble. The tires on her car hadn't been replaced in a while—though she promised herself every week that she was going to get the maintenance done on the thing—and the battery usually failed her if it even dropped down to being cold enough for a heavy frost.

Andrea hadn't been worried about the weather before, but suddenly she was almost as terrified as all of the people that she'd been mentally making fun of for days.

"You parked your truck outside, Merle," Andrea said, hoping that being confident in the statement would make it so. She hoped it would make Merle laugh and declare that he'd "almost gotten her". His expression told her, though, that she was wrong. Merle was telling the truth. He'd lost his truck in a ditch and he'd made it there on foot.

Andrea's stomach lurched.

"Call Skeeter to tow it," Andrea said.

"You think his ass is workin' on a night like this?" Merle asked. "Ain't seen a soul even out there. Power's out ever' damn where. Phones is down. I stopped in at Mary and Joe Steen's house to use the phone an' they ain't had nothin'. That ain't but...what? A mile and a half from here?"

"Then what the hell did you come here for, Merle?" Andrea asked. "If the whole town is shut down? If everyone's locked up and you had to practically crawl here? What in the hell possessed you to come here?"

Andrea was a little sorry for snapping at him, but contemplating the fact that she might be stranded at Homer's for the night had picked her pulse up to a level that was almost uncomfortable. Merle didn't look bothered, though, by her outburst. He stared at her as coolly as he ever had before and shrugged his shoulders.

"Seen your lights was still on, Andrea," Merle said, employing her name to show how serious he was at the moment. "Figured you might be stuck. I ain't no damn prince on a noble steed—but if you was stuck here? Figured you might be pretty damn glad to see somebody. Even if it's only ole Merle."

Andrea swallowed. His words sunk in slowly for her and she realized that, on some strange level, she _was_ glad to see him. Even if it was only Merle Dixon, she felt a little better, actually, knowing that she wasn't out here entirely alone. If she'd gone out to her car, in the dark, and found that her car couldn't crank—or maybe that snow was piled up to an uncomfortable level that she'd never even seen before—she might have felt panicked. The lack of phones—especially out there where cell phones were next to useless—would have only increased her concern.

Andrea sighed.

"I'm glad you're here, Merle," Andrea said. "I'm sorry I—I snapped at you."

Merle smiled.

"Nothin' but a thing, sugar," Merle said. "I was comin' to rescue your ass but—it's too damn bad out there to go nowhere. Lost my truck. We get that heap a' yours even runnin', ain't gonna make it back to my place. Sure ain't gonna make it back to yours. Prob'ly end up dead an' froze in a damn ditch somewhere. They don't find our asses for a few days."

Andrea shivered at the suggestion. She shook her head at Merle.

"It can't be that bad out there," Andrea said.

"It is," Merle insisted. "Hell—you don't believe me, go prancin' your happy ass out there. Ain't no skin off my teeth you freeze to death."

"This is Georgia!" Andrea declared.

"And that's why the hell it's so damn bad out there!" Merle responded. "I don't know how to drive in this shit. You don't know how to drive in it. Hell—ever'body's stranded until it melts a little. Or at least until the damn sun's up and we can see what the hell we're dealin' with in the light. Dark as Satan's asshole out there right now."

Andrea paced around behind the register a moment and tried to figure out what to do. There wasn't anything to do, though. If what Merle said was true, and very likely it was if he was still there and nobody else was stumbling in, they were stranded. They were stuck at Homer's. And the worst part about it was that Andrea had no idea how long they might be there.

"It's OK," Andrea said, more to calm herself than to calm Merle. He seemed relatively OK with the fact that they were stuck. "It's going to be OK."

"While you ain't doin' nothin' but wearin' tracks in the damn floor," Merle said. "How about toss me a pack of reds?"

Andrea growled at him and pulled a pack of cigarettes from behind the register. She threw them in his direction and, laughing, he somewhat dove to catch them. He held them up, showing her that he'd gotten them, and muttered a thanks before he opened the pack and lit one. From the windowsill, he grabbed the ashtray that Homer kept there.

Homer, unlike most business owners in Georgia, had yet to get on board with the idea of not allowing smoking in his establishment. Andrea figured, though, that Merle was likely to ignore such a rule tonight even if it were in place.

"What the hell do we do?" Andrea asked. "Merle?"

Merle shrugged his shoulders.

"Warm us up a couple them hotdogs while the power's workin'," Merle said. "Make a fresh damn pot of coffee. Hell—pull up some floor and have a sit down. Wait it out."

Andrea nodded her head. Merle being level-headed—something very unusual for him—was having an odd calming effect on her. She sucked in a breath and let it out, feeling some of her tension leaving with it.

"You're right," Andrea said. "We'll just—have something to eat. Drink some hot coffee. And we'll just...wait it out. Surely the police will be out in the morning. They'll be coming around. Checking to make sure everyone's OK. Willie will come by to check on the store."

"If they ain't still snowed the fuck in too," Merle said. "Hell—people ain't prepared for this shit, lil' darlin'. Maybe they ain't out for a couple days."

"We can't stay here a couple of days," Andrea said.

Merle laughed.

"Snowed in? We might not have no damn choice," Merle said. Apparently, noting that his words made Andrea quite uncomfortable, he changed his approach. "Fuck—we still snowed in tomorrow? Sun comes up an' we can see what the hell we doin'? My brother'll come lookin'. And when he finds my truck? He'll come here to see if you know anything."

"That's real good, Merle," Andrea said. "Except if everybody's so trapped by the snow, how's he going to get out?"

Merle laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"That ain't the damn case then tomorrow, when the sun's up? You an' me'll take off down the road," Merle said. "Hell, we can't drive then we'll walk. Holdin' hands and shit we're bound to make it. Get back to my place and figure somethin' out. Me an' Daryl? We set for this shit. We got food. Wood. Water. We can hole up there for a month if we gotta."

"And I just stay at your house?" Andrea asked, almost laughing in spite of herself.

Merle shrugged again.

"Until the damn roads thaw out an' your ass can get home," Merle said. "Unless you got a better idea."

Andrea didn't have a better idea, but she didn't want to admit it. She didn't want to admit that, for the moment, she almost felt like Merle Dixon actually _was_ some kind of prince that had come riding up out of the snowstorm to rescue her.

So instead of saying anything, she decided she would simply pay him back by making him the hot dog he mentioned. There were only a few left, so she put them on to warm and she poured the leftover coffee into her cup before she started a new pot.

It wasn't long until she was sitting on the floor, just in front of the register area, having a picnic with Merle Dixon.

And, oddly enough, she didn't feel as afraid – or even as inconvenienced—as she once had.

She didn't feel afraid again, in fact, until the generators kicked off and everything around them went still and black.

"Fuck!" Andrea spat. "Fuck! Fuck!"

Merle laughed at her in the darkness. He lit the lighter that he kept with him at all times and held it between them so that the light illuminated a small area of the darkness.

"Hell—I knowed that was gonna happen," Merle said. "Willie prob'ly weren't never figurin' on having the damn things run for long." He got to his feet. "Don't you worry, darlin', I'm a grab some of them candles off the shelf over there. Maybe you even got some lanterns stocked in the fishin' gear. We gonna be alright."

"Except the kerosene is going to run out, Merle," Andrea said. "It won't last much longer. Probably not until the morning."

Merle bumped around in the darkness and Andrea was relieved when he reappeared with the candles that he'd promised. He stumbled around a bit more, this time behind the register where she prepared the food, and she heard him fiddling with some kind of plastic. After a few moments, he returned with the candles and put them down. He lit them and Andrea could see that he'd put them in drink cups and used something he'd found behind the counter to steady them in the cups.

Then he brought the kerosene heater around and put it close to where they had built their little "camping" spot.

"You got more kerosene?" Merle asked. "You stock it?"

"We had more," Andrea said, "but all that stuff sold out early today. We're dry. There's not much of anything here until at least Monday when they deliver some new stock."

Merle hummed and came over. He sat down on the floor and slid himself closer to Andrea than he had been before. Andrea told herself that his newly chosen proximity was simply because they had to share the heat. They needed to share the light.

"Don't'cha worry," Merle said. "Heat goes out? We ain't gonna freeze to death. Merle'll keep you warm, lil' darlin'."

"Merle," Andrea said, offering him some warning with her tone. He laughed at her.

"Can't blame a man for tryin'," Merle said. "All damn jokes aside, that heater goes out? You might get to feelin' a whole damn lot more friendlier. It's gonna get cold in here."

"We'll talk about it when the heat goes out," Andrea said.

Merle hummed at her again.

"Suit yourself, darlin'," Merle said. "Of course...this snow? In Georgia? Shit don't happen on a regular, ya know? Could be somethin' more...could mean something."

Andrea laughed at the combination of Merle's tone and his expression. He wanted her to bite and she guessed, after everything, she owed him at least the entertainment of doing that.

"Mean what, Merle?" Andrea asked, not trying to hide her smile entirely. Merle's smile spread over the fact that she'd asked him to continue.

"End of the damn world, darlin'," Merle said. "End of days. This is how it starts. Ever'body dead or some shit."

"Everyone but you and me?" Andrea teased.

Merle nodded, laughing to himself.

"That's right," Merle said. "Just you an' me. Nobody left on Earth except us. Hell—it's damn near our duty to the whole damn human race to repopulate the whole fuckin' world."

Andrea hummed, but she had to admit that she was at least a little amused with him. She shook her head at him.

"Calm down, Merle," Andrea offered. "I don't think the world is ending just yet. I don't think it's left up to us to make sure that the human race continues."

Merle sucked his teeth at her.

"Suit yourself," Merle said. "But—just so you know? I ain't gonna hold it against you when you're barkin' up my tree later an' telling me you sorry that you didn't believe me."

"I'd take my chances at any rate, Merle," Andrea responded.

Merle laughed.

"Fine," he said. "You win. You'll let me know when you change your mind. For now? We'll just—get a lil' sleep. See how many people's left in the morning."

"You want me to sleep here with you?" Andrea asked. Merle nodded. "I'm not falling for that."

Merle held his hands up in mock surrender.

"I don't do shit I ain't invited to do," Merle said. He grinned at her. "Don't gotta," he offered, raising his eyebrows at her. "I'm always gettin' _begged_ for it." Andrea faked a gagging sound at him and Merle didn't look any less amused. "Lay down here, sugar," Merle said. "You safe with me. I'll stay up a while. Watch out for the heater. Make sure the damn candles don't burn the place down around us. The heat goes out? I'll make sure your ass don't freeze to death."

"I won't sleep," Andrea said. "I can't sleep here. Not like this."

"Worth a try," Merle offered.

Andrea knew that it was true. It was worth a try. She should at least try to sleep so that they weren't both absolutely exhausted the next day.

"Wake me up?" Andrea asked. "In a couple of hours? I'll take watch then and you can get a little sleep?"

Merle nodded his head and patted his lap.

"Yeah," he said. "Go ahead. Get comfortable. I'll wake you up when there's somethin' worth wakin' up for."

"A couple of hours, Merle," Andrea said. She considered refusing his offer to use his lap as a pillow, but ultimately decided to use it. She got comfortable and Merle moved only once to readjust himself and find a more comfortable position with his back against the counter. "You OK?" Andrea asked.

"Just fine," Merle assured her.

Andrea thought she was very unlikely to fall asleep there, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that she was wrong.

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When Andrea opened her eyes, she was aware that her body was stiff. It was stiffer than it normally was after a night of sleep. She woke to light, something she didn't expect, that was much brighter than she could explain at first. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she remembered where she was and she remembered what had happened. She moved to sit up and realized that she was covered with a heavy brown coat that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and gasoline.

The lights were still off in the store. The candles had burned out. The heater, too, had died at some point in the night.

Andrea's movements stirred Merle, who evidently had spent the whole night in the same position that he'd started it in, and he moved to stretch his body, whispering some soft curses against the stiffness that he no doubt felt.

The bright light was sunlight that was pouring into through the windows. And even from where she was sitting, Andrea could see that its brightness was only amplified by the white blanket that coated the ground and glittered in the sun.

"You didn't wake me up," Andrea said, her voice sounding groggy even to her own ears.

Merle looked at her and a hint of a smile spread across his lips.

"Figured—you don't wake an angel up," Merle said.

Andrea felt an odd rush run through her body and she felt an unexpected flutter in her chest. Usually the things that Merle said automatically irritated her. At the moment, though, the sensation she was feeling couldn't be farther from irritation.

"You gave me your coat?" Andrea asked.

"I had plenty enough to keep my ass warm," Merle said. "Besides—sleep better when I'm cold."

"There still isn't any power," Andrea said.

"Prob'ly ain't gonna be neither," Merle said. "But we got cold coffee an' they's some donuts over there. We'll owe Homer."

"And then what?" Andrea asked. "We can't just stay here all day, Merle."

Merle shook his head.

"No," he said. "We'll eat somethin'. See what it looks like outside. I figure the two of us can make it back to my place at least. Figure out the state of things. See about gettin' you home." He smiled at her. "Or..."

"Or?" Andrea asked, when he broke off.

"Or we just assume we the last livin' people on the damn Earth an' we get workin' on the new generation," Merle said. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Generate a lil' heat of our own?"

Andrea laughed to herself. Oddly enough, the suggestion didn't sound nearly as offensive this morning as it had the night before. She didn't let him know that, though.

"Fuck off, Merle," Andrea said.

"Was tryin' to," Merle said. "At least—was tryin' to do it part way." He sucked in a breath and let it out. "Fine," Merle said. "I get it. You ain't interested. Not right now. But—how about we don't repopulate the world? Not today. How about, instead, I get your ass to safety—keep you from freezin' to death in a ditch some damn where—and you have supper with me? No strings attached."

"Tonight?" Andrea asked.

"Good a night as any," Merle said. "Besides—chances are? We ain't got shit that's gonna make it up to your house tonight. And I'd hate to leave you up there to freeze anyway. Alone."

Andrea sucked in a breath and nodded.

"Fine," Andrea said. "But if I stay? I'm sleeping on the couch."

"Whatever the hell you want," Merle responded. He winked at her. "I'll show you where I sleep, just in case you change your mind."

Andrea got up from her position on the floor.

"I'll bring you breakfast," Andrea said. "But, Merle? Don't expect me to change my mind."

Merle laughed.

"I won't, sugar," Merle said. "I like a damn good surprise."


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